Dragons and Diamonds
by Nola
Summary: When their two paths are crossed together, Draco and Ginny learn to forsake what they were raised to become and accept what they were meant to become. But a love as strong and forbidden as theirs must be dangerous.
1. Two Separate Paths Cross

_With the millions of the lost and lonely ones   
I called out to be released   
Caught in my struggle for higher achievements  
And my search for love that don't seem to cease   
_-Joni Mitchell, "Same Situation"

CHAPTER 1

The Burrow was a lopsided, ramshackle old house that was home to torrents of activity and warmth, much of which subsided when all the Weasley children were either away at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry or had graduated school and started life on their own, but some of which still lingered in the summer when Ron and Ginny, the two youngest Weasleys, returned for the holidays. The house was especially bustling with energy towards the end of summer, when it was time to prepare for Ron's last year of Hogwarts and Ginny's second-to-last year by journeying to Diagon Alley to pick up school supplies.  
The morning sun was just peeking over the horizon, casting everything within reach of its beams in molten orange-gold. The rays of sunlight poured in through the windows of the rickety little house, flooding the room on the third landing and illuminating sixteen-year-old Ginny Weasley's face, making her porcelain skin glow and her blazing tresses of ruby-red hair even more strongly akin to fire. It would have been an inspiring sight to see, like the promise of a new beginning, if Ginny hadn't been so downcast that morning.  
The reason for her despondency was none other than a certain visitor who was currently staying at the Burrow, a place he had once described as the best house he'd ever been in. Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived. Her brother's best friend and her Quidditch teammate. The Head Boy of Hogwarts. The Master of Obliviousness when it came to Ginny. Wait, scratch that last one. He wasn't oblivious; he only did a good impersonation of it. He _knew_ how she felt about him; how she still clung to her childhood crush on him, how she still held persistently onto a hopeless hope. How could he not know? There's no way he could have missed all her countless tongue-tied stammers and flustered stutters and stolen glances, not to mention the brilliant crimson color her face glowed with every time he was in the same room as her. He had always known, though he had always pretended not to notice. Yes, Ginny was well aware that he tries to be sensitive and careful with other people – you could even put the words awkward and fumbling to him – but surely there's no excuse for being perfectly conscious of someone's love for you and ignoring it, brushing it aside as if it didn't even exist. If _she_ knew someone loved her, she'd treat them right! She had tried to make him love her, or at least notice her, but time after time she failed to prevail. She had given her all and it still wasn't enough, and for that she resented him, as much as you can resent someone you're smitten by. But still she wanted to forgive him. He was too charming and good-hearted to stay angry at, especially for something Ginny knew he hadn't even done on purpose. Yes, he did know that she was head over heels for him, but he couldn't possibly be aware of the depth of her emotions. He didn't know about the ache in her heart and the way her mind cried out for him. Still she waited patiently for him to take notice, and although she kept telling herself that she was waiting for nothing, she just couldn't bring herself to believe it. And this internal struggle was definitely not assuaged by the fact that he was a temporary inhabitant of the very household she lived in. How could she possibly get over him if he was sleeping in the same house as her, eating at the same table as her, de-gnoming in the same garden as her, practicing Quidditch in the same backyard as her? It was almost maddening, how she could be sitting right next to him and know that she could never have him. It had been nearly five years since she first laid eyes on him, and a part of her still refused to accept he didn't love her and never would. She was nothing more than a surrogate sister to him.  
And she couldn't even turn to her best friend for comfort. Colin Creevey worshipped the ground his hero walked on and was deaf to any possibility that Harry could have done something insensitive, much less something hurtful. In his eyes, Harry was perfect.  
Ginny saw Harry as perfect, too. But the problem was, he wasn't perfect _for her_. If he were, she wouldn't be staring out of her bedroom window brooding over her broken heart right now.  
"What I need," Ginny murmured aloud, "is someone to confide in, someone who _notices_ me for who I really am. They don't have to be perfect. They just have to be perfect for me."  
"Pardon?"  
Ginny whirled around at the sound of the voice, her face now the same color as the rising sun.  
A head with a mop of wildly curly brown hair had poked its way through the door that Ginny had left ajar. "I thought I heard you say something," said Hermione.  
"Oh – never mind. I was just thinking out loud."  
Hermione grinned a little. "Well, it's almost time to Floo to Diagon Alley. Ready?"  
Ginny nodded and followed Hermione out of the room.

* * *

"Wake up, sir! It is time for Master Malfoy to wake up! Master Malfoy must go to Diagon Alley today!"  
Draco Malfoy gave a drowsy groan and blinked the sleep from his eyes, letting his weary gaze wander around his bedroom. Someone had pulled back the large, grand emerald-colored curtains, and the sun was radiating through the window in blinding amounts. He lowered his eyes to the scrawny house-elf, named Squinky, who was tugging on his pajama sleeve and urging him to get up.  
"For Merlin's sake, I'm up, all right?" he snapped at the house-elf, thrusting his arm out of her grip. "Now get back to the kitchens where you belong, and start making my breakfast."  
"Yes, sir," squeaked the house-elf, bowing deeply and scurrying out of the room.  
Stretching his tired limbs, Draco sat upright and surveyed himself in the large oval mirror that hung on the wall opposite his bed. He looked an awful mess from sleeping; his usually sleek flaxen hair was tousled and sticking up in various directions, and his wintry grey eyes had yet to adjust to the brightness of the new day, thus reducing them to slits. "Not looking too hot today, are we, dear?" The mirror commented.  
"Shut up," Draco mumbled, kicking the bed sheets off of himself and swinging his legs over the side of the bed to get up, knocking over the silver, green, and black pillows that adorned his bed.  
In fact, his whole bedroom was lavishly decorated in those three colors. These were Draco's favorite colors. Silver stood for delicate and refined things, and it exemplified Draco, as he wouldn't settle for anything less than the most eye-catching and superior items possible. As a Malfoy, he was drawn to this color; it was the same color that was reflected in his eyes, and even his hair if the light shone on it just right. Green, the color of Slytherin house, epitomized all he was and all he had ever known. Green is the color of snakes and nature, and Draco was a snake by nature. So green represented what he was raised to be and what his destiny was to become. It is also said that green is the color of jealousy, but Draco dismissed this notion. Black was Draco's personal favorite color above all; the way it seemed to soak in all light until there was nothing left but shadows. It signified something deep, secretive, mysterious, and almost frightening that even he couldn't figure out.  
Rubbing his eyes, Draco stumbled into his bathroom. A nice warm shower was exactly what he needed to fully wake up. He tugged off his pajamas, twisted the silver shower taps, and stepped under the cascade of water, proceeding to wash every part of his body except for a sore area on his left arm.  
This was the place on his arm that the Dark Mark had been branded onto.  
He had received the Mark three nights ago, and his arm still ached from it. A cringing sort of shiver ran through him as he remembered that night.

_It was the moment Lucius Malfoy had been anticipating for years. His only son was about to be initiated into the select circle of the Dark Lord's strongest supporters.   
Draco and Voldemort stood facing eachother, surrounded by a group of Death Eaters who were watching this initiation process intently. Draco was shrouded in a hooded black cloak and a mask, making his smaller stature the only feature that could distinguish him from the rest of the Death Eaters. The expression on his face was concealed by the black hood he wore and also by the obscurity that the moonless night provided, but from the way he remained absolutely motionless, he appeared to be listening with rapt attention to Voldemort's detailed instructions on how to cast the Dark Mark.  
"...There can be no turning back now, Draco." Voldemort hissed quietly in conclusion. "Are you prepared for this?"  
Draco nodded bracingly and tilted his head up towards the star-peppered sky. He lifted his wand, performing the complicated movements Voldemort had just taught him, and cried out into the stillness:  
"Morsmordre!"  
The tip of Draco's wand exploded like a firecracker, and neon green stars blasted out from the hazy smoke it had ejected. As the stars ascended into the air, they clustered together to form the shape of an immense, distorted, demonic-looking skull with a great snake protruding from its mouth. The horrible emblem rose higher and higher into the tranquil sky, shining down on the Death Eaters and bathing them in emerald light.  
Draco hesitantly turned his head to look at Voldemort's reaction. The skeletal figure nodded approvingly, his crimson eyes glistening with eagerness.  
Draco rolled up his left sleeve and turned back to the area in the sky where he had cast the Dark Mark. He drew a deep, shaky breath and raised his wand once more. "Insignio!"  
He watched in amazement as one by one, the stars that had composed the Dark Mark descended from the sky. Each one landed on his exposed arm, piercing through his skin like the acute stab of a knife and instantly turning the fierce red color of Voldemort's eyes. Once all the stars had penetrated his arm, they melted together and produced the gruesome shape of the deformed skull with the snake jutting out of its mouth. The freshly applied Mark began to burn so excruciatingly that Draco dropped his wand and sank to the ground, panting heavily and shaking uncontrollably. He fought back the hot tears gathering in his eyes; he refused to let himself cry in front of his father and Voldemort, not to mention all the other Death Eaters.  
Voldemort leaned down and lifted Draco's hood with a bony, white hand. "Take a look at those you have now joined, young Death Eater."  
Draco raised his head and stared meekly around at the circle of masked Death Eaters that encompassed him. He was one of them now. He could feel all of their eyes upon him, even though he couldn't see their faces. He couldn't even discern which one was his father.  
"You now share a common bond with them, Draco." Voldemort continued. "You have promised unswerving allegiance to me this evening. You will forevermore be a faithful servant to me, aiding me in whatever means I use to achieve even greater powers and demonstrating the unquestioning devotion and steadfast obedience that is required of a Death Eater. I expect that you are aware of the dire consequences that would befall you if you were to betray all that you have pledged to tonight. But we don't have to worry about that, do we?"  
Voldemort now addressed the group of Death Eaters surrounding him. "With a new Death Eater in our midst, I must emphasize the importance of loyalty to the Dark Mark and everything it stands for. It is my hope that each and every one of you will serve as an example for young Draco to follow." The Death Eaters nodded dutifully, though they remained silent.  
Voldemort turned once more to the boy on the ground beside him, and his thin lips curled into a sinister smile. "May your loyalty never falter."  
"Never, my Lord." Draco vowed swiftly, his voice hushed and quavering from beneath his hood, as he knelt before the ghostly figure of Voldemort. "Never will I betray you."_

And then he, Draco Malfoy, the son of one of the most prominent and trusted members of the Inner Circle, received his first task as a Death Eater, which was to be carried out throughout his seventh year at Hogwarts. Draco had prepared himself to be given some big, important task that would guarantee becoming one of Voldemort's most honored Death Eaters. But no, he had been instructed to, of all things imaginable, keep an eye on Ginny Weasley throughout the school year. Draco couldn't believe his ears when he'd heard that. _What's that supposed to mean, "keep an eye on Ginny Weasley"?! _Draco thought indignantly, fuming inwardly at this as he recalled the night of his initiation. He ran his fingers through his white-blonde hair, rinsing out the residue of shampoo in it. _What's the fun of being a Death Eater if my only assignment is to spend my time watching some Muggle-loving bint? I should be performing tortures on the little brat, not babysitting her!_ And to add insult to injury, he wasn't even informed of the reasons behind this so-called mission.  
Turning off the water, Draco stepped out of the shower and into a green bathrobe, with fresh waves of irritation still breaking out over him at the thought of his unpleasant assignment. As he stood in front of the bathroom mirror, combing his hair until not a single strand was out of place, he surmised that perhaps if he fulfilled his duty to the best of his abilities, it wouldn't be long before he was trusted with a more suitable task. But how could he admirably execute this task if he wasn't even sure of what exactly he was supposed to do? Was he supposed to actually make conversation with the little weasel, or just watch her from afar? Was he supposed to befriend her (he shuddered violently at this thought), or would that arouse too much suspicion? Nothing had been specified.  
Draco completed his morning routine by brushing his teeth and getting dressed, and then he headed down to the dining room for breakfast.  
Narcissa was already there when he arrived, sitting in one of the ornately carved high-backed chairs staring into a cup of black coffee. She looked up and smiled lovingly at him when he entered.  
"Mum, remember that assignment I got the night I became a Death Eater?" Draco asked, slumping into his seat and spearing a sausage with his fork. "What exactly did Voldemort mean by that? Do you think if I do it right, I won't get any more stupid assignments like that?" Catching himself, he hastily looked over his shoulder to make sure that Lucius hadn't overheard him calling any of Voldemort's plots stupid. He sighed in relief when he was assured that his father was nowhere in sight.  
"I don't know, Draco. Your father never talks to me about these things, so I know only as much as you do." Narcissa answered.  
That took care of the only subject Draco was interested in discussing, so he consumed the remainder of his breakfast in silence. Narcissa watched her son, thinking of how he looks so much like his father that it's almost eerie.  
When Draco stood up to leave, Narcissa asked, "You're going to Floo to Diagon Alley, right?"  
Draco rolled his eyes. "Mum, I told you before, it's much easier to just Apparate."  
Narcissa frowned – that is to say, the ever-present frown on her face deepened. "And I told you before that I don't think it's safe for you to go around Apparating without a license. It's too much of a giveaway; Aurors are patrolling places like Diagon Alley more than ever now, searching for Death Eaters to arrest."  
"Nobody would be able to figure out that the Dark Lord taught me how to Apparate." Draco insisted. "Honestly, Mum, do you do anything but worry about me?" With a popping sound, Draco Disapparated out of the dining room, exiting coldly on that line.

* * *

Ginny shuffled behind Ron, Harry, and Hermione as they made their way through the crowded, bustling streets of Diagon Alley. She pulled miserably at the collar of her robes. The August weather was so hot it felt oppressive. Ron and Harry were sniggering over some joke she must have missed, and Hermione was marching alongside the pair of boys, already immersed in her brand-new copy of _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 7_. Ginny had to grin a little at this; no wonder Hermione had been named Head Girl! She was sure that Hermione and Harry would make an unbeatable duo together as Head Girl and Head Boy, and this thought made a slight pang of jealousy twist within her core.  
Ginny had been trailing in the shadow of these three inseparable friends all morning and afternoon, feeling more like a stalker than someone who belonged with them, and cursing herself for allowing herself to put up with this humiliating exclusion. Finally, she wiped her sweaty brow with the back of her hand and made up her mind.  
"Guys, I'm going to do some shopping of my own," she announced. Three vague "okay"s answered her.  
Huffily, she turned on her heel and stomped off towards Quality Quidditch Supplies. Mrs. Weasley had given Ginny a handful of money for her to spend however she wished, and Ginny knew exactly what she wanted to do with it. She was fed up with using a school broom in Quidditch games and practice meets just because she couldn't afford one of her own. It was near impossible to fly to the best of her skills if she was stuck on an old, shabby broom that was intended for the First Years to practice flying on, not to mention how embarrassing it felt and how ridiculous she looked. Even Ron, who was the Keeper on the Quidditch team, had managed to have his own broom; he had joined the team a year before Ginny, and Fred and George had given him some of the prize money that Harry had given them the previous year to buy him a broomstick. But Ginny had joined the team after Fred and George had graduated Hogwarts; she had taken their place as one of the Beaters. Even the ancient broomstick she was forced to use couldn't entirely hinder the talent she possessed on the Quidditch field. Just hand her a broomstick and a Beater's club and she'd be unstoppable. In her element.  
Ginny had adored flying ever since that day in her fourth year that Ron had let her ride his Nimbus 2000 for fun. She realized that flying offered an escape mechanism for her; when her feet left the Earth, so did her mind and spirit. She was separate from the rest of the world, free to glide among the clouds and skim over the tops of trees; she could go wherever she wanted, and even be whomever she wanted. She knew right then and there that joining the Quidditch team was a way she could prove her worth to everyone who had so politely advised her not to attempt something that would result in her making a fool of herself. So in her fifth year, she tried out for the position of Beater. Before her audition in front of the Gryffindor team, she was nervous and tense with anxiety, but as soon as she'd mounted her broomstick, there was no denying her natural flair for soaring in the air and whacking Bludgers like there's no tomorrow.  
_Ah, flying,_ thought Ginny contentedly as she swung open the door to Quality Quidditch Supplies, _the one love in my life that's never let me down!_  
She stopped short when she entered the store, staggered by the sight that met her eyes. An enormous pedestal had been set up in the middle of the store, and positioned on it was the most fabulous broomstick that Ginny had ever set eyes on. She had heard about this broom, though she had never seen one up close.  
It was a Skysplitter, a state-of-the-art broomstick whose speed, precision, and balance was said to top even the Firebolt. Those who could afford a Skysplitter knew that it was the most superb racing broom available in all of the wizarding world.  
In total awe, Ginny approached the pedestal and strolled around it, taking the time to admire the Skysplitter from every angle. Every inch of the broom was so elaborately polished that it looked as if it would slip from her hands if she were to pick it up, and the fine twigs that made up the tail were honed so flawlessly that they seemed beyond smooth. It would, without a doubt, be an absolute dream to ride. She didn't even bother to check the price; it was obvious that she'd never be able to afford such a top-quality broomstick in a million years.  
She was just marveling at the perfect curve of the handle when an ice-cold voice shook her out of her reverie. "Goodness, Weasley, don't you know that it's useless to pine after something you know you can't have? I thought you would've learned that by now, after all those years of chasing after Potter..."  
Caught off-guard, Ginny's head snapped up, and she watched wordlessly as Draco Malfoy snatched the Skysplitter off of the pedestal and started to examine it carefully, admiring it the way she had just done. She noticed that he didn't bother checking its price, either, but for the opposite reason that she hadn't done so. The Malfoys practically had gold coming out of their ears, and the idea that money could be an issue for them was preposterous.  
"Speaking of Potter, where is he? Surely he accompanied your family to Diagon Alley, since he doesn't have a proper family of his own?" Draco continued spitefully, still lazily scrutinizing the Skysplitter. "Oh, that's right, he doesn't want you around. Probably can't stand the sight of you. Not that I blame him."   
Ginny's blood boiled at his nasty remarks, but she refused to allow him the satisfaction of knowing that he had struck a nerve. As she watched him rotate the broomstick slowly in his hands, shamelessly flaunting it right under her nose, she shot back, "If you think that having a better broomstick is going to make you a better Seeker, Malfoy, you're sadly mistaken. Money doesn't buy everything, you know."  
"That may be true," Draco drawled with a condescending chuckle, "but money could buy you a decent set of robes, which is something you're in desperate need of." He glanced up from the Skysplitter to let his chilly eyes flick over her second-hand robes, and immediately wished he hadn't. _My, did that little Weasel grow up over the summer! Those may be second-hand robes, but she sure fills them out quite nicely!_ He tried to think of another scathing insult to throw at Ginny, but he was too distracted by the new light he was seeing her in to get his mind back on its usual track.  
Ginny thought he was staring at the shiny badge pinned to her chest. "Yes, Malfoy, I'm a Prefect this year. Surprised?"  
The sound of her voice snapped Draco back to his Malfoy instincts. "Actually, yes, I am," he sneered, raising his stormy silver eyes to meet her intense bronze ones. "I highly doubt you can handle that responsibility. You have about as much backbone as you have money."  
Ginny's face flared with fury and shame. "Well, I don't see _you_ being trusted with any important responsibilities! And I do too have a backbone, I just don't get mine from tearing other people down and acting like I'm above everyone else!"  
Trembling with rage, she turned her back to Draco and strode off to another part of the store, as far away from him as possible. _That was all I needed! A stand-off with that bit of slime, what a wonderful way to finish off this wonderful day!_  
After silently counting to ten to calm herself down, she shook her head free of all Malfoy-related thoughts and stared forlornly into the tiny sack of money that her mother had given her. Sighing, she determined that she wouldn't be able to buy a broomstick that was much better than the school broomstick she used. Trying to look as discreet as possible, she picked up a Firefly from a stand at the back of the room and made her way to the counter.  
"A Firefly?" Draco called loudly from across the shop, his eyes glittering cruelly with malice. "Those were popular around the time I got my Hogwarts acceptance letter, I believe."  
Ignoring his taunts, Ginny handed over her minuscule bit of money in exchange for the outmoded broom. Before she exited Quality Quidditch Supplies, she glanced over her shoulder and caught a glimpse of Draco at the counter, purchasing the coveted Skysplitter. He was so pale and unfeeling that Ginny briefly wondered if ice flowed through his veins rather than blood.  
She shoved open the door and stormed out, still gritting her teeth over their run-in. How did he know just what it took to infuriate her? How did he notice her weaknesses in time to manipulate them against her by firing a rotten insult at her? He knew exactly how to gnash at her nerves more than anyone she'd ever met, and the fact that she possessed the infamous Weasley temper only assisted his campaign to aggravate her. The words that Hagrid had once spoken about the Malfoys came back to her: "No Malfoy's worth listenin' to." Never was a truer word spoken! Ginny vowed to herself that this year, she wouldn't let Draco get under her skin. She wouldn't give him the pleasure of letting him put her down. She wasn't going to waste her time even thinking about him, ever again.  
But little did she know that fate had a different plan for her.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

_A/N:_ I hope you enjoyed Chapter One! This is my very first multi-chaptered D/G fic, and the overall plot of it is kind of a combination of some theories I've been considering. I had so much fun writing this, especially the Draco scenes. In the next chapter, we'll get insight on how Tom Riddle's diary affected Ginny, and also Ginny will learn that there's more to the Malfoys than she thought, as well as some other stuff, so I hope you'll stay tuned. Reviews are always welcome and would be greatly appreciated, so please let me know what you think. A major "thank you" goes out to Kathy for encouraging me to not give up on writing this, to Kimmy for sharing my love of fanfictions and having wonderful discussions about Draco with me, and to everyone in the D/G Club at Cinescape for your kindness and support and inspiration and, of course, your insanity. ;) Pineapples forever!

_Disclaimer:_ The characters in this story were created by J.K. Rowling. I don't own them (though I occasionally borrow Draco when she's not looking), nor is any money being made from this fic. And the lyrics at the top of the page are from a brilliant Joni Mitchell song.


	2. You Don't Know Me

_We're strange allies   
With warring hearts  
What a wild-eyed beast you be  
The space between  
The wicked lies we tell  
And hope to keep safe from the pain  
_-Dave Matthews Band, "The Space Between"

CHAPTER 2

Ever since she was little, Ginny had always loved arriving at Platform 9¾ on September 1st, even back when it was her brothers who would be making the dream-like journey aboard the Hogwarts Express and not her. The platform was filled with all kinds of students, from first years who clung to their parents, barely able to contain their excitement or nervousness, to seventh years who seemed bored with the process after doing it so many times until the novelty had finally worn off. One seventh year in particular seemed to stand out from the crowd. He was standing with his parents, his fair golden hair gleaming in the sunlight, wearing an impassive expression as he talked with them.  
Reminding herself of her vow not to bother with Draco Malfoy this year, Ginny turned away, lugging her cases of belongings behind her as she followed her family and Harry towards the train.  
She was about to say her goodbyes to her parents when she caught sight of something that made her burst out in giggles. To Ginny's astonishment, Narcissa Malfoy had thrown her arms around her son, practically smothering him in a tight embrace as she lamented, "Oh, I can't believe we're sending you off to your last year at Hogwarts! I remember when we were helping you get ready for your very first year..." Ginny had always expected Draco's mother to be as distant and undemonstrative as Draco himself was, but now Ginny saw that her prim and proper appearance and name was misleading.  
"Muuuum! You're making a scene..." Draco grumbled irritably as he tried to squirm out of his mother's grasp while struggling to salvage any dignity he had left. Draco noticed Ginny out of the corner of his eye and shot a menacing glare at her, but the fact that he was so powerless and unable to retaliate against her made the situation look even more comical.  
"If you'll excuse me, Narcissa, I'd like a moment alone with the boy," Lucius interrupted.  
Narcissa released Draco and said a final goodbye to him before she Apparated off. Ginny continued to watch closely as Lucius rounded on his son.  
"The school year has not even started yet, and already you have failed me." Lucius began, his voice practically a hiss. "I had high hopes that you would be named Head Boy. Have I expected too much of you?"  
"Maybe you have," Draco muttered softly.  
"That was not a question, Draco!" Lucius warned.  
Draco lowered his eyes to the ground. "Father – I'm sorry–" Suddenly he looked more like a frightened child than someone who would be graduating Hogwarts in June.  
"Look at me when I'm speaking to you." Lucius commanded, and Draco's head snapped up obediently. Lucius continued, "Aren't you ashamed that Harry Potter and the Mudblood girl are ahead of you academically? Or have I taught you nothing?" The tone of his voice was calm and silky, and it would have sounded almost pleasant had it not been laced with undercurrents of malevolence and disgust.  
"Father," Draco spoke slowly and carefully, as though he was afraid of his tongue getting tangled on his words. "I have been trying. I _was_ made the Quidditch captain last year, surely that means something... And, after all" – he glanced around him before continuing in a hushed tone – "I _did_ receive the Mark this summer, like you always wanted me to..."  
"I shouldn't need to praise you for that. That's no more than what is expected of you as a Malfoy," Lucius snapped.  
_"Expected" isn't the word for it_, Draco thought bitterly, _"Required" is more like it_.  
"And, speaking of which, I trust that you will carry out your assignment successfully." Lucius continued.  
Draco winced slightly. "I thought that, of all people, you'd be opposed to what I've been assigned to do."  
"I'm no happier about it than you are, Draco," Lucius sighed, "but there are certain... sacrifices... we are required to make. You have to do what you have to do; you are bound by the Mark. Unless you don't take your responsibility as seriously as I do?" Draco shook his head quickly. "Good. Just keep in mind that what you are doing is for a greater purpose."  
"And what is that greater purpose?" Draco inquired.  
"You'll find out soon enough." Lucius said briskly. "And when you do, you'll see that ultimately the ends justify the means."  
Draco had to restrain himself from rolling his eyes. "Asking me to put things like honor and duty before myself? That sounds like a silly Gryffindor ideal. I'm a Slytherin, and Slytherins take care of themselves and do what they want."  
Lucius leaned in closer to his son, his pale eyes narrowed and his lip curling upwards. "See how far that gets you." He gave Draco an unnecessarily forceful shove with his walking staff before turning sharply on his heel and striding off.  
Ginny averted her eyes away from the father and son and resumed walking towards the scarlet steam engine, dragging her heavy trunk behind her. She had a distinct feeling that she was not supposed to have overheard the snippet of conversation she'd just witnessed. It had certainly struck her as odd. She had always imagined Draco to be an exact miniature replica of his father, as parallel to him in principles as he was in looks.  
As Ginny was hoisting her luggage onto a compartment, Mr. Weasley put his hand on her shoulder, and Mrs. Weasley smiled warmly at her. "Third Prefect in the family! We're so proud of you, dear."  
Ginny beamed and hugged her parents in farewell. "I'll miss you!" As soon as she climbed onto the train and slid the compartment door shut, she came face-to-face with Draco, whose arms were crossed casually as he leaned against the door and regarded her.  
"Wasn't that just the sweetest thing? Little Miss Weasel, the pick of the litter, the pride and joy of her parents." He put on a high-pitched voice and imitated Mrs. Weasley. "_We're so proud of you, dear!_ Maybe she thinks you'll be the first Weasley to amount to anything."  
Ginny scowled at him, her amber eyes spitting fire. "Don't you dare say anything about my family, because there are loads of things I could say about yours."  
"Then how come you don't? Don't have the guts to?" Draco smirked.  
"Look who's talking, Mama's Boy." Ginny retorted.  
At this, a pinkish blush stung at Draco's cheeks. "I'll give you some advice, Weasel," he snarled angrily, his voice low and full of contempt. "Don't act like you know _anything_ about me or my family, cause you _don't_."  
Ginny's mind flew back to the hostile exchange she'd witnessed between Draco and Lucius, and then to Narcissa's unguarded exhibition of affection. Maybe she didn't know the Malfoys as well as she'd thought after all.  
"Care to enlighten me, then?" Ginny asked, mimicking Draco's scornful drawl.  
"Why should I let you in on anything?" Draco sneered. "All you need to know about us is that we're one of the most powerful and influential families in all of the wizarding world, and my father could wipe out your entire family if he saw fit to. So I'd watch your tongue if I were you."  
Ginny wanted to think up a swift and nasty reply to Draco's threat, but the thought of Lucius Malfoy terrified her so profoundly that she remained silent, falling for Draco's trap. He flashed her a satisfied, patronizing smile and exited the compartment, leaving Ginny by herself.  
Ginny hated being reminded of the power that the Malfoys held. As if she needed a recap after the incident in her first year! It was because of Lucius that she had come across the cursed diary of Voldemort's sixteen-year-old self, and it clearly had been no accident. And even though the diary had been destroyed long ago, the horrific impact it had left on Ginny still plagued her; nearly every one of her peers in Hogwarts skirted her as if she was still possessed by some evil fiend, not to mention how she still suffered flashbacks of the whole awful experience. She couldn't blame Draco for this, since he wasn't informed of his father's plot until after it had occurred, but she still loathed him for being the offspring of such a cruel, heartless human being – especially since it looked as if his destiny lied in following his father's footsteps. The apple never falls far from the tree, Ginny concluded.  
There were still times when Ginny would feel overwhelmed by Tom Riddle's influence all over again, though these moments grew rarer with each passing year. But she could sense one of those moments coming now; she could feel it about to hit. And as much as she tried to drive the spine-chilling memories from her head, she felt them surface in her and consume her, leaving her helpless once more as images of the past returned to mock her. 

_"Sometimes I wish I lived 50 years ago, just so I could meet you in person. You're so wonderful to talk to, Tom."  
"Ginny, you don't have to wish for that, because someday I'm going to find a way to come out of this diary. Then we can meet in person."  
Ginny's heart leapt into her throat, and she feverishly scribbled a reply. "Promise?"  
"I promise."  
"I can't wait! I'd better get to bed now, Tom, I'm pretty tired. Talk to you tomorrow!"  
"Goodnight, Ginny. Have sweet dreams."  
Ginny closed the diary gently. Before storing it away in its hiding place under her bed, she hugged it tightly to her chest, running her hand down the wrinkled leather spine. She pressed her cheek up against the gilded words "T.M. Riddle" that were emblazoned on the cover of the book, burying her face in those gleaming golden letters. Until the day Tom came to greet her face-to-face, this was as close to him as she could get. For now, this would have to suffice._

Ginny smacked her forehead, scolding herself for being so blind and foolish. Why didn't she see the ugly reality behind his enticing lies? Why did she have to be so naïve? But then she recalled that she _had_ started to detect the warning signs...

_"Dear Tom, I think there's something wrong with me. I can feel it. There's something different about me and I'm not sure what it is. But I've been feeling this way ever since I found your diary, and it's just been getting stronger and stronger..."_

But Tom had crushed these suspicions, quickly and shrewdly... 

_"I must say, Ginny, I'm rather shocked by these things you're accusing me of. I thought you knew me better than that. Don't you trust me anymore?"  
"Of course I trust you, Tom! I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. I'm just so confused."  
"It's okay, Ginny. I understand."  
"You're the only one who does. No one's ever understood me like you, Tom. I feel like I can tell you anything. I'm so glad I've got this diary to confide in. I honestly don't know what I'd do without you. It's like I've poured out my very soul for you to have..."_

And now, here Ginny was, doomed to live every day with the painful knowledge that not only would she never experience the unconditional attention and compassion that Tom had given her ever again, but that it had never even existed in the first place. The Tom that she'd thought she knew was just an illusion, a deception. But how could something that was never real linger in her memories and haunt her conscience so intensely? No matter how many years passed, she still couldn't escape the permanent damage he'd done to her, the inexorable mark that her heart had been tainted with.  
She buried her face in her hands, her mind exploding with rampaging questions. She squeezed her eyes shut and whispered furiously, "How could you do this to me? How could you let me spill out all my deepest secrets and still put me through all that horror? How can _anyone_ be that evil? How can anyone be that good of an actor, that good of a liar? Didn't anything I said mean anything to you at all? Wasn't there just one tiny second, one brief flicker in time, when you felt even a hint of remorse for what you were planning to put me through? Was there a single word that you actually meant? I don't understand it! Why, why did this have to happen to me? How could–"  
Her chain of thoughts was broken when she heard the compartment door start to slide open again. Ginny stiffened her posture and prepared herself in case it was Draco at the door, since lately he seemed to be constantly seeking her out to harass her, but instead, a small, frail-looking boy with mousy hair poked his head into the compartment and grinned at Ginny.  
Ginny brightened instantly, grateful to see a friendly face. "Hey there, Colin!" The next thing she knew, she was blinded by a sudden flash of light.  
"I think I'll call this one, 'back on the Hogwarts Express'," announced Colin, patting his camera.  
Ginny smiled weakly, batting flecks of light from her eyes. "Still love taking photos, I see." She was hoping Colin would sit down so she could have someone to rant to about the assortment of troubles that burdened her mind, but instead he told her, "I'm going to go say hi to Harry. I'm sure he won't mind, right? I wonder how he's been all summer. I can't believe he stayed at your house; you're so lucky! Well, see you at the feast."  
Ginny nodded flatly. "See you." Colin dashed out of the compartment, eager for a brush with greatness.  
Uncomforted, Ginny propped her elbow up on the windowsill and gazed absentmindedly at the scenery beyond the glass panel, watching trees and meadows zip by. She felt so alone, so empty, like an integral part of her had been removed and she'd never be whole again. And it was not only Tom Riddle's fault, but it was also Harry's fault, Lucius's fault, and, needless to say, Draco's bloody fault.

* * *

_A/N:_ Hope you liked Chapter 2. I had a bit of difficulty with this chapter, since a few parts of it subtly introduce some of the main themes of the story, but it was nonetheless fun to write! In Chapter 3, we'll see Ginny use her Prefect powers on Draco when she ends up getting him a detention – let's see how that one turns out! *wicked grin* Thanks to the D/G club at Cinescape, for helping me overcome my writer's block with your wonderful fics and discussions, and to my two reviewers, TK and Tutankhamunsgirl – I really appreciate your kind words! I hope you'll keep reading and reviewing!

_Disclaimer:_ This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Also, the lyrics at the top of the page are from a Dave Matthews Band song.


	3. Staring Problems

_Watching me, wanting me  
I can feel you pull me down  
Fearing you, loving you  
I won't let you pull me down  
_-Evanescence, "Haunted"

CHAPTER 3

Ginny had never been more relieved to finally arrive at Hogwarts, except for perhaps that time in her second year when a horde of Dementors had infiltrated the Hogwarts Express. The journey to Hogwarts this year had been a long, tiring, and emotionally draining one as well. But now she sat contentedly in the Great Hall, watching the Sorting Ceremony take place. As each first year approached the three-legged stool one by one, her thoughts traveled back to when she was in her first year and had waited, seemingly forever, in line to put the Sorting Hat on her own head. She closed her eyes, remembering how anxious she had been, and how her worrying had only increased as she had watched all the other students get sorted before her. She'd wanted to be a Gryffindor so badly, not only to make her family proud by continuing their legacy, but also because she wouldn't feel safe and at home unless she was in the same house as her brothers. But she supposed Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff wouldn't be that bad, even though it would set her apart from her entire family. Then, at long last, it was her turn, and the battered and frayed old hat had been positioned onto her head of red curls, the oversized rim drooping over her eyes. She had trembled and fretted throughout the whole process. She was unduly afraid that she was going to be placed in Slytherin, because she wasn't always as good or brave or honest as she could've been, like how she had been keeping her new magic diary a secret from her family.  
Ginny was so wrapped up in her reminiscing that she gave a startled jump when she heard the hat yell out, "Slytherin!", but then she realized that she was back in the present. She watched as Jamie Zabini hopped off of the stool, smiling broadly, and joined the Slytherin table. Ginny caught a quick glimpse of Draco, applauding Jamie and conversing with his surrounding friends, before Dumbledore tapped his glass and cleared his throat.  
"Before we begin our feast," Dumbledore began, his jovial voice ringing through the silent Great Hall, "I have an important announcement to make."  
"Oh, hurry up, I'm starving!" Ron muttered, gazing longingly at the empty plate in front of him.  
Dumbledore gave a patient smile in the direction of the Gryffindor table as if he could read Ron's thoughts. "I am pleased to welcome Professor Willamette, who has kindly agreed to fill the position of our Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher." Dumbledore announced, his eyes twinkling over the applauding students. "Let us hope that the so-called 'curse' on the job will be lifted and Professor Willamette will be with us for many years to come."  
A witch at the staff table smiled faintly as the students peered up at her to take her in. She had thin, crimpy brown hair that flowed down her back like a river of dark chocolate, and her eyes were a shocking fluorescent blue. She wore an expression that was far-off and somewhat detached, though at the same time she seemed very keen to her surroundings.  
"I think I know who she is!" Ron exclaimed to Harry and Hermione as he eagerly plunged his fork into the mound of mashed potatoes that had just appeared on his plate. "She used to work at the Ministry of Magic, but she had to leave to help fight full-time against You-Know-Who. Apparently, it was too risky for her to stay."  
"What's she doing here, then?" Hermione wondered aloud.  
"I also heard that she used to attend Hogwarts... and she was in Slytherin." Ron continued, wrinkling his nose.  
Ginny took a second glance at the staff table. Ron seemed to be correct about this new teacher, since Snape was wearing an expression that suggested that he might know her from somewhere. It was the first time Ginny had ever seen him look at a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher with the absence of resentment.  
"Oh, great, that's all we need," Ginny heard Harry saying, "Another biased teacher."  
"Just because she was a Slytherin doesn't mean she's going to be biased." Hermione said pragmatically.  
Ron choked on his pumpkin juice. "Yeah, and Dumbledore's a Death Eater." As Ron went into a lengthy tirade about the sneakiness and malevolence that existed in every member, present or former, of Slytherin house, Ginny suddenly felt a prickly sensation crawling up her spine – the feeling one gets when someone is watching them. Her eyes raked over the crowd of students in the Hall until they met, to her surprise, Draco's. She stiffened abruptly, regarding the boy who was so intently regarding her. His expression was unreadable, except for the smirk that was so permanently etched on his face that Ginny wondered if he slept with it plastered to his lips. She squirmed slightly under his piercing stare, wishing his eyes wouldn't bore into her so relentlessly, but she refused to turn away from him until he turned away from her. Her heart started to pound with the question of _why_ he was studying her so carefully. To try to intimidate her, maybe? But how did he know that she would look back at him? _Leave it to Malfoy to turn something like eye contact into a method of torture!_ She had almost reached the point where she could no longer endure this battle of willpower when Pansy Parkinson slithered into the seat next to Draco and said something to him that made him turn his head towards her. Ginny breathed a sigh of relief, feeling the tension in her muscles relax as Draco's gaze left her, and she turned back to her dinner.

* * *

"Hurry up, or else we'll be late!" Ginny called to Ron and Harry, loathing whatever it was in her that made her risk being late for her first class of the year by waiting around for those two boys to finish eating their breakfast so that she could accompany them in the halls. The loneliness she had felt on the train still hadn't been cured, and trying to hang around with her brother and her crush while Hermione was spending time at the library wasn't helping too much.  
_Smack!_ They had raced down a corridor, and Ron had collided into a person coming around the corner.  
"Watch where you're going, Weasley!" Draco shouted loudly, shoving Ron off of him. "These robes are worth more than your whole house, and I don't want your filth all over them."  
Ron's freckles vanished under a crimson current of embarrassment washing over his face. Harry spoke up, "Shame you can't use all that money to buy yourself an attitude adjustment."  
"Shame your sidekick can't even seem to speak for himself anymore," Draco cast a glance at Ron, who was raising a fist. Draco ducked just in time before it hit him, and he retaliated by swinging a heavy textbook at Ron.  
Harry and Hermione scrambled to restrain Ron from fighting even further, and Ginny grabbed Draco's arm and struggled to yank the book out of it.  
"I _said_ I don't want Weasley filth all over my robes," Draco snapped at her, pulling away.  
Ginny's gaze dropped to the floor, and she mumbled something.  
"Look at me when you're speaking to me. I can't understand a word you're saying." Draco commanded impatiently, aiming to strike the same terror into her that he felt whenever his father spoke to him that way.  
Ginny wanted to keep staring at his scuff-free shoes, avoiding his leaden eyes, but she forced her eyes to travel upwards to meet his bitter-cold gaze. "I _said_ I'm taking fifteen points from Slytherin. And I'll also be reporting this."  
"Yet you let your brother right off the hook," Draco observed. "And they say _Slytherins_ are the biased ones! That's a laugh."  
Ginny ground her teeth. "I saw what happened. You started it. An extra point off for talking back to a Prefect."  
"Ooh, trying to look tough in front of the Head Boy?" Draco sneered in a slightly singsong voice.  
Ginny glanced quickly at Harry, who had averted his eyes away, pretending not to have heard Draco's comment. Ron nudged Harry, and they hurried off to class, leaving Ginny to face Draco alone. She swiveled her head back to Draco, so infuriated and embarrassed by his taunt that a red haze seemed to fog her vision. "Why do you always have to pick on me like that?!"  
Draco arched an eyebrow, as if no one had ever been thick enough to ask him such a question before. "Why, you ask? Well, let me see." He held up his hand in order to tick off the reasons on his fingers. "You're a Weasley – your whole family is dirt poor with mops of raggedy red hair and so many siblings I don't know how you keep track of them all. You're a Gryffindor – your whole house is so stuck in their idiotic principles of bravery and integrity that you all fail to see what meddling fools you are. You've been head over heels for Potter since the dawn of time – I think that one's self-explanatory. And finally, you're a pathetic loser who lets everyone walk all over you as they please." He shook his head in mock sympathy. "It's just too easy to get under that freckled skin of yours."  
"And you think you're so much better than me?" she snarled, trying to keep her trembling voice under control. "Well, since you were kind enough to give me an analysis of my personality, Malfoy, let me give you one of yours. First of all, you're nothing but a bratty little kid who goes running to his daddy every time the tiniest thing doesn't go your way. Without your family's name and wealth, you wouldn't last a day in this world. And you know it. You hide behind it. The only reason you can fool your little Slytherin friends into thinking you're such a big shot is because their brains are the size of a pea. And I don't know what kind of spell you use to get girls to fall all over you, but it must be a pretty strong one, since it would take a lot to overlook what a worthless bit of slime you are. Obviously not a long-lasting one, though, since you can't keep a girlfriend for more than two weeks. But I guess these kinds of people are the only kind of company you can keep, since anyone with enough intelligence to tie their shoelaces sees you for what you really are: a coward."  
For a fleeting instant, Ginny saw something flicker in Draco's wintry eyes – could it be fear? But he quickly blinked it away, and his eyes returned to their usual lifeless state. But she could tell that he had been frightened to some extent, from the way his voice cracked like ice in a warm drink when he spoke next. "Back off, Weasley, or I'll Transfigure you into a pineapple." He brandished his wand under her nose to show that he wasn't kidding. He could easily get away with it, too, since the corridors were nearly empty by now. When she remained quiet, he lowered his wand. "That's better. You really should see someone about those anger management problems you have, or else you might find yourself in quite a sticky situation later on down the road if you have any more... outbursts."  
"That was not an outburst. I'm _fine_," Ginny insisted, but her clenched fists and gritting teeth said otherwise. She stormed off with her head bowed, gripping her armful of books tightly.  
Draco pivoted around and stalked into the History of Magic classroom, sliding into his usual seat in the back row. As he listened to Professor Binns rattle off about The Mermaid Declaration of Rights, he became aware of something tugging at the back of his mind, nagging him, troubling him.  
_"The only reason you can fool your little Slytherin friends into thinking you're such a big shot is because their brains are the size of a pea..."  
_Okay, so maybe Crabbe and Goyle weren't the sharpest of companions one could have, but there were other qualities that were necessary in an associate. The important thing was that they provided automatic protection and loyal obedience for him. Plus, he could tell them anything. But the same could be said for a brick wall. The only reason he could tell them anything was that half the time they couldn't even comprehend what he was saying.  
_"... you can't keep a girlfriend for more than two weeks..."  
Now_ that's _a lie_, concluded Draco_. Everyone knows I've been with Pansy for quite a while... Well, she isn't exactly my girlfriend, but she's always available for an adequate shag or an ego boost._ He and Pansy still hadn't become an official couple, and both of them preferred it this way, though for different reasons. Pansy tirelessly enjoyed "the thrill of the chase", as she called it, reveling in what she saw of as their flirtatious games of cat-and-mouse. Draco, however, found it convenient to be able to have all the perks of having a girlfriend without having the burdens that came with being in an actual relationship. So, for convenience's sake, he humored her into thinking that she was the one who had control over him, but he knew that there was no way this could be possible. Draco Malfoy was always in control, of himself and of those who followed him.  
His cohorts looked up to him and gave him the attention he craved. With them, he was always the superior leader, never the inferior follower. Everything about him and the way he presented himself demanded respect, from the renowned name he'd inherited (and all the wealth and power that came with it) to the way he strutted around the Slytherin common room looking smug. No one there saw through him – the way Ginny had. He couldn't stop thinking about their skirmish in the corridor. He was beginning to regret how he had demanded that she look at him while talking to him, because once she had met his eyes, she had seen straight into them, like open doors. And she had correctly interpreted what she had seen in them, unlike anyone ever had.  
So what if there'd been some truth in Ginny's words? Draco was satisfied with the way things were in his life at school, and he wasn't about to let a little Weasel tell him how to behave.

* * *

Ordinarily, Ginny was comfortable with going to her professors if she needed help with a homework assignment, but Snape was an exception. She was intimidated by the way he swept about the chilly dungeons like a large bat and the way he seized every opportunity to belittle anyone belonging to Gryffindor house. He was especially brutal towards Ginny out of all the sixth years, probably because of her blatant crush on Harry. However, she had no other option than to seek help from him this time. No matter how hard she tried, she simply couldn't grasp exactly what the effect of a Desensitizing Draught was, which was the topic of the essay he'd assigned.  
Sighing in defeat, she pushed a hand against the dungeon door, and it swung open with an ominous creak. Her eyes roved around the classroom, past the shelves upon shelves of containers holding slimy-looking objects, and she saw a person sitting at one of the desks. But it wasn't Snape.  
"What are you doing here, Weasley? Shouldn't you be off chasing after Potter or something?"  
Ginny's almond eyes narrowed to suspicious slits. "I'm here to ask Snape a question. What are _you_ doing here, Malfoy?" She spat his name out as if it were the foulest word she had ever spoken.  
"This is the detention you so graciously arranged for me when you reported me. I'm helping Professor Snape prepare some ingredients for a potion."  
Ginny frowned, thinking it extremely unfair that Snape's idea of a detention had been assigning Draco to spend time with his favorite teacher to make preparations for his favorite class. It was no strain at all to Draco; in fact, he was probably enjoying his detention. Everyone knew that while Draco did only average in his other classes, when it came to Potions he was just as genius and proficient as Hermione, if not more so. It wasn't just Slytherin bias that caused Snape to favor Draco above all other students. He could accomplish in no more than fifteen minutes what it would take the rest of the class a full hour to complete.  
"Snape left to get some lacewing flies." Draco told Ginny. "He should be back any moment. So either come back later or wait here, just stop standing in the doorway like an idiot."  
"Oh. I – I'll just wait here, then." Slowly and gingerly, she settled into the desk beside Draco and took out her quill and a scroll of parchment, thinking that she could take a crack at her essay while she was waiting. She scrawled "Ginny Weasley" atop the parchment with a flourish, and then she waited with her quill poised above her paper for an opening sentence to come to her. But something was preventing her from concentrating on her essay – something was off.  
Her line of vision kept straying, against her will, to the boy next to her. He was too absorbed in his work to even notice that her eyes were absentmindedly traveling over him, or so she believed. For an instant she thought she saw him shift uneasily, as if he was aware of her presence even though he didn't acknowledge it, but then she reckoned that if he knew she was watching him he'd surely have something to say about it.  
What had lured her gaze to him was the way he was preparing the potion ingredients with such dexterity and care. He was hunched over his desk, taking remarkably precise measures as he skillfully peeled the skin off of a dead boomslang, looking more focused than Ginny had ever seen him. He seemed practically godlike, the way he hovered over the assortment of ingredients that were arranged on his desk. She couldn't help but notice his hands. Their near-translucent tone made the traceries of his pale blue veins stand out, and his fingers were long and slender and agile, each one ending in a smooth, lustrous fingernail that made Ginny think of delicate seashells. She had always been vaguely curious as to how someone as vile as Draco could have so many admirers and lovers, and maybe this was the answer – his nice hands. But, no, there had to be more to it than that. So she let her eyes roam further, examining his profile to try to see where the attraction might lie.  
His complexion was a milky ivory tone, and his chiseled features made him look considerably older than seventeen, though his cheeks were lightly tinted with a pinkish glow that wasn't visible from a distance and lent him a somewhat vulnerable quality that was very uncharacteristic of him. His eyes were the stony grey color of storm clouds, but on a closer inspection Ginny found that they held soft flecks of light that were accentuated by his feather-light hair. When he blinked, she noticed that his eyes were framed by long, even lashes. She tore her gaze away from his eyes, afraid that she might drown in them if she looked at them too long, and instead she studied his face. His nose was perfectly straight and came to a distinct point, and so did his chin, though not as prominently as his nose. His jaw was angular, and his lips were pressed together in intense concentration as he crushed a bicorn horn to a fine powder. His neck was craned over his desk, and his green-and-silver striped tie hung loosely around it in a casual manner. In the dim torchlight of the dungeons, his fine locks of hair were the sleek silvery shade of unicorn blood instead of their usual washed-out golden color. His hair was scrupulously slicked back and combed so meticulously that Ginny supposed he took the same amount of care in his appearance as he did in his potion-making. He was wearing the cool, aloof expression that constantly lingered on his face, the expression that suggested he was always bored with his surroundings. But, when looked at a certain way, this expression gave him a rather sophisticated and graceful air, almost... handsome. _So this is how Malfoy looks when he thinks there's no one watching him. _He looked perplexingly different when removed from the crowd of Slytherin cronies that usually surrounded him, and Ginny couldn't put her finger on what it was that made him look so aberrant, but she knew that the way he looked so serious and focused and, well, _human_ contributed to this difference she was witnessing.  
Ginny couldn't make sense out of the thoughts tumbling around inside her head. She had looked at Draco many times before, looked at him with hatred, looked at him with disgust. But now, here she was, staring at him like she'd never seen him before in the entire span of her existence. _What am I thinking?! _He was no mysterious and intriguing stranger, and there was no way to overlook what he was all about. He was Draco Malfoy; he slung insults as easily as he walked and talked; he discriminated against anyone who was not rich or pure of blood; he went out of his way to ensure that life at Hogwarts would be miserable for Ginny and her family and friends; he was the total opposite of everything her family stood for and everything that Harry was fighting for... Yes, Draco was nothing like Harry... Harry, who, through all his goodness and gallantry, still couldn't find a special place in his heart for the girl who loved him so honestly and dearly...  
Ginny bit her lip and willed her attention back to her essay. Now was not the time to get lost in her hopeless musings. She was just lifting her quill to attempt another sentence when she noticed that she was inhaling a most delicious scent. She knew it must have been coming from Draco, since the dungeons had never possessed this aroma before. He smelled fresh and subtle, like the first snowfall of winter. _Evil people aren't supposed to smell this good!_, Ginny's mind growled. Refusing to resign herself to the fact that her attention had wandered well past the point of being able to return to her essay, she gripped her quill furiously and tried to ignore the distraction sitting beside her.  
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his broad shoulders rise and fall rhythmically as he inhaled and exhaled, drawing in steady, relaxed breaths and then letting them out in slow sighs. _Merlin, even his breathing is driving me insane! I can't take it anymore!_ The more she tried not to focus on the sound of his breathing, the more it seemed to fill her ears until it became practically deafening amidst the otherwise silent dungeon.  
"Could you please keep it down?" she heard herself blurt out as she slammed her quill down on the table.  
He whipped around to face her, a slight crease appearing between his brows. "Are you hearing things, Weasley? I'm not making any noise."  
Ginny fidgeted tensely, wishing she hadn't said anything. But now that she had, she figured that it was necessary for her to defend herself. "Yes, you are! I'm sitting here trying to write an essay, and all I hear is–" she did an exaggerated imitation of Draco's breathing pattern.  
Draco blinked and arched an eyebrow, his expression somewhere between amused and miffed. "So you're sitting there listening to me _breathe_? Good Lord, Weasley, I didn't know I was _that_ fascinating. But since it's distracting you so much, I'll stop breathing, just for you." A hint of a smug smile crept onto his lips as he turned back to his desk. "And by the way, it's not polite to stare at somebody, did you know that?"  
Ginny's face heated up like wildfire from the shame of being discovered, but she didn't miss a beat in firing back, "Then why were you staring at me during dinner our first day back?"  
 "I said 'it's not polite to stare at _somebody_. You're a nobody."  
He was deliberately dodging the question and Ginny knew it, but at the moment she was too frustrated to see straight, much less call him on it. "Stop being such a prat or I'll pull a Hermione and slap you right across the face."  
"Just do that, Weasel, and I'll turn this dungeon into a murder scene," Draco eyed his wand, which was lying on his desk.  
"I'd prefer if you didn't, Mr. Malfoy," came a silky voice from the doorway. Snape swept into the room, his black robes billowing around him. "If Miss Weasley was causing trouble, all you have to do is inform me so I could take the appropriate measures to find a punishment..." Ginny could practically see him calculating the number of points he could subtract from Gryffindor. He peered over Draco's shoulder at the potion ingredients he had been preparing. "Commendable work, Mr. Malfoy. This will be very useful. You may go."  
As Ginny watched Draco swagger out of the dungeon, throwing a warning glare over his shoulder at her, she decided that the light she had seen him in a few minutes ago had surely been the result of the inhalation of too many potion fumes. There was nothing attractive about Draco, no different side to him, no aspect to him besides the callous, arrogant one she had already experienced.

~*~*~*~

_A/N:_ Chapter 3 is finally complete! I hope you found it enjoyable. Professor Willamette is a character I came up with spur-of-the-moment, but I think I've found a way I can fit her into the plot. Oh, and I lurved writing the description of Draco! I could write a whole novel just describing him alone. *fangirlish sigh*  
Thanks to luvHP for her wonderful review! It really means a lot to me.   
Coming up in Chapter 4... Quidditch season begins!

_Disclaimer:_ This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. The lyrics at the top of the page are from a song by Evanescence (best band ever!). The line in the fic "she had seen straight into [his eyes], like open doors" is based on a line from another Evanescence song, "Bring Me To Life". Just in case you thought it sounded familiar.

Thanks for reading! Please leave a review if you liked it or have any comments to make. :)


End file.
